


The Blood of Dovah

by Rykeld



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Arrogance, Cyrodiil, Dragonborn DLC, Dragons, F/M, Humor, Imperial City, Magic, Romance, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Solstheim, Sovngarde, Windhelm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-24 02:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rykeld/pseuds/Rykeld
Summary: Hmmm.. finally I finished rewriting the second chapter and can hopefullu hop off this awkward log of writers block I seem sat atop.





	1. The Handshake

           

 

                     Skyrim was a place of many seasons all of which occur at the same time, just in different regions. In some places, they clashed against each other and in others the change was gradual. Behind a hill, it may be suffering a blizzard though you stand in a chilled spring atmosphere listening to the frogs sing their songs and bugs fly by.

The woman smiled at the realization, basking in the magnuslight gleaming through the trees to caress her face. She listened to the sounds of horse hooves hitting the soft dirt road, the birds singing above, the clanking of weapons against armor, the downy wind tickling her ear, and the throaty hum of conversation behind her.

The warmth was something she currently was cherishing, for soon enough they would enter a region of cold - though when she hadn't a clue. The warmth was much pleasing compared to the skin cracking cold the Throat Of The World could provide. Her palm held water filled blisters from the flame she had to hold the entire stay there - though the blisters were much gladly greeted rather than an ice cold death. Paarthurnax had kindly told her of some wood that had been left atop the peak. She had run to - as well as you could run in thighs deep snow- the wood and waited as the dovah cleared a place for the two to sit and speak around the fire.

Paarthurnax was a kind dragon who had told her of the time wound that swayed atop the peak. He sent her off to retrieve the Elders Scroll  _Dragon_ , a scroll she was luckily already in possession of. The scroll sat in her home in The Pale, tucked away in her cellar. She simply had to travel there, grab the scroll, then return to the wound and give it a read.

The woman watched the horse she sat atops head bobbed with every step. Its ears flicked around taking in every leaves decent to the ground, or every bugs wings as the beat against the air. The mare she sat atop was imported from Cyrodiil, named Fawn. The horse wasn't as tough as the horses Skyrim had come to produce, though she was much faster, a useful advantage.

She was pulled from her thoughts as a soldier who had been following her reined his horse in step along hers.

"There are some people ahead. Let's try and ignore them." He spoke, his face shielded behind a helmet.

The woman gazed ahead and indeed there were people nearing. She nodded to the soldier and gave him a smile. "I would not have noticed, thank you for alerting me."

The soldier did not give a reply, seemingly locking his concentration on the approaching.

The woman let out a sigh pulling the reins to give way on the narrow path.

As they neared she took note of the strange apparel the two wore, their faces covered with a white mask and bodies clad in tan colored armor. Attempting to ignore them she forced herself to face ahead, and instead take in the beauty of The Rift.

The hold was lush, filled with colors appealing to the eye. The trees stood tall and plentiful bearing red leaves as a sign of winters coming. Their leaves littered the floors of the forests, covering the filling green grass and collecting in streams. Above held a soft blue sky littered under thin sheets of clouds while Magnus beamed proudly within it all. Behind the throat of the world loomed high and mighty, the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel - tallest in all of Nirn to Myllas concern.

Winds softly blew over her skin, trickling under her blue gown blooming goosebumps across her skin.

The Dragonborn had gladly ditched the heavy furs she had worn up the mountain for the Stormcloak blue dress she now wore, as it much much lighter and... brought her back a bit. To when the world wasn't teetering to her will and ways, to her every move. She wasn't known as a hero, Dragonborn, yes - talked to as a simple Imperial woman high in the mountains bordering Cyrodiil.

"Are you the one they call Dragonborn?" A voice questioned, slicing the peaceful atmosphere.

The woman halted her horse and looked down at the speaker, who stood next to her.

"Are you speaking to me?" She questioned.

"I am looking at you, are I not?" The masked dunmer replied, her race apparent from the rough elvish voice.

"Oh. Well most just call me Mylla. But some do indeed address me as Dragonborn." The woman answered shifting in the saddle.

Mylla felt a tug on her sleeve by the soldier, seemingly telling her something was off. She simply ignored it, for the two could be just asking for help.

"Then it is too late. The lie has already taken root in the hearts of men." The dunmer suddenly lashed out, "So we shall expose to them the falseness in their hearts by tearing out yours, Deceiver! When Lord Miraak appears all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!"

"Wha-" Myllas eyes widened as a bolt of lightning crackled past her head, cutting off her question. The two seemed cultists were now holding destruction spells in their hands fighting off the soldiers Mylla had following her.

Sliding off her horse the Dragonborn placed her hand on her chin and cracked her neck, then cleared her throat.

"Iiz.. Slen - NUS." She shouted sending a wave of freezing wind towards the cultists. The frost cocooned around the cultists freezing them quickly, and killing them slowly when they fell to the leaf blanketed ground.

The soldiers sheathed their weapons and gazed down at the frozen cultists exchanging words of annoyance.

Mylla approached them "Have you ever viewed such attire?" She questioned.

"Never seen something like it in my life." One soldier answers while the others agreed with him.

The Dragonborn let out a hum, watching one cultist struggle to breathe, grasping his throat in pain. The thu'um must have frozen one of his lungs. Mylla walked to the woman cultist and knelt next to her to grab the satchel she had worn.

Standing back up she flipped it open and dug around the contents, pulling out a letter.

_"Board the vessel 'Northern Maiden' docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Mylla before she reaches Solstheim._

_Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased."_

Mylla scrunched her brows handing the letter to a soldier, "It mentions a Miraak? Ever heard of a Miraak?"

"Never, perhaps someone at the college would have?"

She hummed, mentally disregarding the College as she already had questioned Urag Gro-Shub of all his readings regarding dragons and Dragonborn, a mere few, most describing the Dragonborn rolls of Tiber Septim or Martin Septim... None of the books in his library had mentioned that of a 'Miraak'.

Miraak.

A simple combination of the dragon words 'Mir' meaning Allegiance, and 'Aak' meaning Guide, showing the character must have a connection of a sort to the dov. Perhaps a priest? Their names often consisted of one or two dragon words, many seem to be around Skyrim, and supposedly Solstheim had once been physically attached to the province.

Solstheim, an island northeast of Skyrim. She had heard seldom of the islands current situations and had not intended to visit it probably... ever. For the cold Skyrim had to throw out was much more than enough for the imperial woman... Though the letter seemed to originate from there...

"Well, boys!" She hollered out as the last cultist perished. "Pack your things, I'm headed to Solstheim!"

"Excuse me if I misheard, but I believe you told us not to let you get distracted..?"

"Fuck that, I am distracted already!" She smiled hoisting herself atop Fawn and situating her bottom.

"Come now, perhaps we can make it to Windhelm before dark." With that, she gave Fawn a quick kick to the side causing the horse to jolt into a canter down the path.

 

\---

 

"No."

"What do you mean 'No.'?" The woman questioned with a sharp grey eye on the blond man sitting in front of her.

Gjalund gazed up at the woman from the wooden crate he sat atop, a look of dread across his features as he recalled the last events he remembered from Solstheim.

"I am not going back there." He simply replied

"Why?"

"It's hard to explain ... I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then ...The next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole days like that."

The Dragonborn raised a brow at the mention of people wearing masks.

"There's been something strange going on there for a while, but after this ... I'm done. I'm not going back to Solstheim."

Something strange, quite apparently.

"What's your usual going rates for passages to Solstheim?" Mylla questioned, relaxing her stance and crossing her arms across her chest.

"I usually ask two hundred and fifty septims.. bu-"

"Here, how about I give your pretty blond beard one thousand septims, and you hurry on over to sail."

"Well ... a man has to make a living, after all. Fine."

"Great!" She threw a bag of septims into the man's lap. "It will just be me, my horse and that large bag that guard is struggling to haul over here." She gestured to the guard pushing the large animal hide bag filled with what Ulfric had ordered she take- minus the five-thousand guards he had insisted on accompanying her.

Speaking of Ulfric, the man had not been overjoyed with Myllas sudden intent to travel to Solstheim, especially when she had broken into his bedroom while he was drooling a river to announce the plans. He had warned her that Solstheim was not how the books had described it anymore, how it was now an island covered in toxic ashes from the Red Mountian, and snow from its natural harsh climate.

Regardless she had simply waved her hand and insisted. Thus he sent out orders to someone to prepare a travel bag for her.. a very large travel bag.

"If you don't mind the question, but how did you even get that horse to the docks?" Gjalund asked looking at the Cyrodillic mare stood behind the Dragonborn.

"Simple, she took the stairs."

"The guar- never mind."

By this time the guard had heaved the sack aboard the Northern Maiden and laboriously took the tip Mylla handed with a lazy hand.

"Well then, shall we cast off?"

Mylla guided her mare aboard the ship replying "We shall."

 

\---

 

The crisp air from the Sea of Ghosts turned pungent as the Norther Maiden neared the island of Solstheim.

The island stood a monster in the sea, jutting into the clean blue sky. Mylla took in the sheer beauty it put off, with tall pines conquering a portion of the island she could see with snow - or ash - filling the land they stood, and an establishment nearing, Raven Rock presumably. According to her book she had picked up in Windhelm about Solstheim, Raven Rock was the only settlement to have a dock, as they heavily relied upon shipments from Skyrim due to the Red Mountian corrupting fertile soils into deadly toxins.

"Well, here we are. This is Raven Rock. Can't say I'm all that glad to see it again." Gjalund spoke from behind - as Mylla was currently seated near the bow of the ship - when they pulled aside the docks.

"Good luck. Maybe you can figure out what's going on around here." 

Mylla stood from her criss-cross position, dusted off her winter trouser clad bottom then headed to the center of the boat where two men hoisted the large carry on a top Fawn, who flicked her ears back in distaste of the weight. Grabbing a hold of the lead attached to Fawns halter she went to pull the mare off of the boat, only to be blocked by a tall dunmer man.

"I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, outlander. State your intentions." He spoke crossing his arms and gazing down at the Imperial.

Mylla rose a brow, pulling back her long brown hair with her hands then dropping it, "I am actually here in search for a 'Miraak'. Know a being of a sort?"

The man bit his lip and seemed to be in deep thought, "Miraak... I... I'm not sure that I do." He let off a sort of scoff then finished with  "Just remember, Raven Rock is sovereign territory of House Redoran. This is Morrowind, not Skyrim. While you're here you will be expected to abide by our laws."

"Understood!" Mylla saluted as he stepped to the side for her and the luggage on legs to board the dock.

Walking down the dock she planted her first step upon the Solstheim soil.. or ash. Nonetheless.

Walking towards the nearest building she halted Fawn and leant against it, setting her grey gaze on the dunmer who had greeted her arrival. He seemed to be holding something back about this 'Mirrak' fellow judging from his studders.

The dunmer soon finished conversation with Gjalund and set his steps off of the dock, she took this time to flag him over.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dunmer!"

The man gave her a sharp glance and turned his path towards her.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure you don't know anything of this Miraak?"

"I... I'm unsure. I swear I know the name, but cannot place it."

"You would make my life a heck of a lot nicer if you could get that noggin of yours running." She glared

"I'm not..." He paused seemingly lost in his mind, " - The name has something to do with the Earth Stone, I think. But I'm not sure what."

"The Earth Stone?"

"Yes, if you follow this path" He gestured to the one that seemed to be the main road "out of Raven Rock you'll most certainly spot it. Most likely hear the chisels from the folks working on it..."

Mylla hummed a response "Thank you.."

"Adril Arano." He introduced.

"Mylla." She smiled.

Taking Adrils advice she pulled Fawn along the ashy road out of Raven Rock.

The way to the Earth Stone was a short one - You could hear the chisels against stone even before you were out of the town. Along the way Mylla noted exactly how much destruction the ash had truly done, the ground held little to no plant life, besides sharp black and red plants that seemed to be unscathed and or evolved to the environment. Ash blew around, collecting in tall mounds against fences or buildings, sneaking up your nose or into your mouth giving a foul feeling.

Mylla cast her gaze from the bland land to the skies, Magnus would soon be setting, as the blue sky seemed to be shifting to a shade of pink as Magnus slowly slid down to rest. Her eyes landed on a green string of light shooting into the sky, following its beam down she rested her eyes upon what seemed to be what she was looking for.

The Earth Stone.

Around the stone were a bunch of folks seemed to be slaving away to finish a structure around the stone.

Tying Fawn to a post she neared the stone, listening to the chisels clank against the stone.

She stood and watched the dunmer, noticing that they  _did not_  notice her.

 "You there..." a voice called out, Mylla turned her gaze and found a dunmer dressed in red robes approaching her.

"You don't quite seem to be in the same state as the others. Very interesting. May I ask what it is you're doing here?"

"Oh. Um." She peered up at the tall man, why were elves so tall? She felt as if she were going to break her neck one of these days. "I am looking for a person by the name of Miraak. Ever heard of such a being?"

"Miraak...Miraak..." He pondered "It sounds familiar but I can't quite place... Oh. Wait. I recall. But that makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years."

"What does that mean?" Mylla questioned, swinging her arms behind her back and grabbing a wrist with her hand to hold them back there.

"I'm not sure, but it is fascinating, isn't it. Perhaps it has some relation to what's going on here. Quite unexpected. I'm afraid I can't give you any answers. But there are ruins of an ancient temple of Miraak's toward the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there."

"Mmm, okay. And who are you and what are you doing here?"

"It's true that I normally prefer to stay home and conduct my research in peace. Everything's so much more convenient there. But, given that something seems to be taking control of the minds of all the inhabitants, I thought it worth investigating. Oh, and my name is Neloth, I am a Master Wizard of House Talvanni."

"Hm, Neloth, why aren't you affected like everyone else?"

"I have gone to some pains to ensure that I am immune to many forms of control. I cannot say for certain which is currently protecting me, but it bears further investigation at some point."

Mylla blinked "Uh.. What are these people doing?"

"Building something, clearly. And yet they don't seem to have much to say about it. I'm very interested to find out what happens when they finish." He replied turning his red gaze to the people working.

"Hm. Well okay then Master Wizard Neloth of House Talvanni, I'm going to head to the center of the island to this 'Temple of Miraak' you spoke of."

"Hmm yes,"  Neloth dismissed walking back to watch the people at the stone.

Mylla watched the wizard for a moment more then pulled out her map of Solstheim, she marked the location of the Earth Stone on her map then found a road that leads around the center of Solstheim. Engraving the path into her mind she gathered Fawns lead in her hand and began on the way to this 'Temple of Miraak.'"

 

\---

 

Judging by the map alone Mylla presumed she was almost half way to the temple when her eyes became too tired to focus on the ground in front of her. Deciding to stop near a random tree for the night she loosely tied Fawn to it then walked to a clearing nearby.

"Dur.. Neh-VEIIR." She shouted lazily, summoning the decaying dragon, Durnehveiir.

"Thank you, Qahnaarin, for continuing to uphold your end of the bargain." He paused and took a few looks around. "You have summoned me in Veysenor. This is new."

Mylla smiled, "Yes, indeed. I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me."

 

\---

 

Mylla awoke to a tickle on her nose, smiling she went to push away Fawns tail assuming that is what the tickle was, only to feel her hand land on something large, hard, and cold.

Shooting her eyes open she let out a scream, a large bug had found it way atop her chest and had been watching her sleep. This scream led to a chain of events consisting of her climbing a legs length up the tree, Fawn rearing on her hind legs in fear, and Durnehveiir, whom must have had the strength to stay the entire night along side the two, to slam his tail on the bug, squashing it as if it was a mere fly.

Mylla heaved, watching goo from the bug seep out of the exoskeleton. "What the fuck was that?!"

She slid from the tree, untying Fawn and heaving the sack back onto the horse, "Yeah, can't do it lets go I am awake!" She hollered out into the pungent air.

She heard Durnehveiir let out a laugh and take off into the skies.

To her surprise, the temple was much closer than it had seemed, judging by the distinct sound of chisels against stone. Something told her that she would be hearing much more of the sound in the days to come. She stood at the base of the hill it was built upon, feet sunk in a toe of freshly fallen snow. Tying Fawn to a rib cage from a large skeleton, what looked to be one of a dragon, she began the ascent up the hill.

Workers, clad in thick fur garments slaved away on the creation. Engraving markings into the stones, an emotionless expression amongst their face. She noticed the abundance of dragon skeletons littered around.

Mylla tried to stay as far from them as possible, fearing whatever spell they seemed to be under was contagious, that it would suck her up into its force and slave her as it does the others.

The spell must have been very.. strong. For she had seen little of Solstheims population not working on this creation. The force seemed almost... opine inhuman. The works of a powerful entity, one of evil, no good.  
The town of Raven Rock had seemed as dry in population as it's ebony mines were plentiful with ore. Almost non-existent. Seldom seemed resistant to the spell cast on Solstheim.

Perhaps it was the work of a Daedra? Maybe even a Prince. This situation would seem  _very_  out of character for an Aedra, and they seldom make presents on Nirn.

"Very Daedric Prince like to interfere with man and mer." She sighed, beginning the last set of steps up to the circular shrine.

Stood at the top of the stairs Mylla took in the size of the temple. It was tall, with wooden scaffolding built up against it. Mylla hesitantly walked up the ramps, then gazed into the architecture. A stone similar to the Earth Stone stood in the center, seemingly just as corrupt as it.

"Oslaf, please! You must fight against what is controlling you!"

Mylla shot her gaze to the female voice, finding a blonde woman standing behind a man letting out her pleas. The woman then turned and walked to another, letting out another plea.

"Yrsa, can you hear me? Yrsa, I'm here to help you!"

"You must leave this place! It is not safe here! We must go back to the village!"

Mylla crossed her arms and walked across a wooden plant into the temple. Walking down the steps she made her way to the glowing green stone in the center. She observed the beautiful engravings in the monument, filled with the green light.

 "You there. What brings you to this place? Why are you here?" The woman's voice came from behind.

Mylla glanced at the woman, then back to the stone.

"I am looking for someone by the name of Miraak," she dug out the letter from her satchel, what dangled on the hip of her ebony armor, then handed it over her shoulder to the woman. The letter was tugged from her grasp and silence was engulfed for a moment.

"My father Storn says Miraak has returned to Solstheim, but that is impossible. This letter. It seems to be written by Miraak. Perhaps.. it's not impossible.." the woman paused.

"Well, considering he tried to have my heart delivered to his hand, it does not seem far from possible." Mylla smiled turning her body towards the woman.

A tall blonde Nord woman, clad in Nordic carved armor over black furs. She wore no helmet to disguise the sorrow and determination in her eyes.

"If it is Miraak who has control over my people, perhaps we both have reason to find what lies beneath us. I have been wanting to explore the temple built below our feet.. and I ask that you will accompany me through it.."

Mylla glanced to the ground, she had assumed this to be the extent of the temple. Of course, it is a Nordic Temple, so there must be more.

"Okay, sure."

"Great. First, we need to find a way into the temple below. I am Frea of the Skaal by the way, and I assume you are the Dragonborn Mylla this letter targets."

Mylla smiled and nodded "Indeed."

Frea nodded back then turned toward a slope in the structure's floor. "This seems to be the way in, but it is blocked off by a gate I have yet to find a way to open."

The Dragonborn followed Frea down the slope, and indeed there was a gate blocking the entrance. She observed it for a moment.

Then the door to the temple swung open revealing two cultists, dressed in the same attire the first ones she had seen wearing.

"Fuck." She bit out feeling her heart jolt in her chest.

Frea seemed also as surprised as her hand stumbled to the hilt of her sword. The gate slammed open and the cultists ran towards the two woman, electricity pulsing in their grasps.

Mylla grabbed Freas wrist and charged a conjuration spell as she pulled her away.

Releasing the spell a purple glow appeared blocking the cultists from their pursuit of the unexpecting women.

Pulling Frea to the top of the ramp Mylla glanced down, finding her conjured dragon priest quickly eliminating the cultists.

She aspired to fight as gracefully as a dragon priest.

When the last cultists head smacked into the stone bricks Mylla stood from her crouch. Frea let out a breath, placing her hand over her heart and thanking the All-Maker.

The priest turned to Mylla and gestured for her to lead the way.

 

\---

 

The temple was a mess. Though the mess was much different than most other Nordic Ruins Mylla had delved into. The temple held signs of a struggle, though masked by the elements of many years the appearance was still quite apparent. There was a meeting room as you entered the temple where skeletons of a former life sat incarcerated in their last moment of fear, they seemed to have been making way to escape only to be felled by an unknown force. Many of these skeletons littered the ruins, mouths ajar in their final breath of the life providing air. Or perhaps in their screams.

Draugr were found in the temple, though very few compared to the abundance of cultists that littered it's trapped filled halls spewing destruction magic only to be pelted down by much more powerful and agonizing spells or a swords quick movement across their throat.

The temple held a word wall, guarded by extremely strong draugr who fought under the dragon skeleton humiliatingly displayed above.

The word was.. strange.. 'Mul' or 'Strength' in Nirns common tongue. The dragons soul who lay atop it almost seemed to hesitate before resting. Shouting the single word of power created a beautiful string of predominantly orange light to appear, caressing the ebony gauntlets Mylla wore and swirling around in a protective force.

All praise glorious Miraak  
Most power servant of all  
Dragon Priests, whose  _strength_  granted  
by gardener of mankind.

The wall told of Miraak, confirming her suspicions of him being a dragon priest.

But why would a wee priest want her eliminated? Sure, they served the dragons, and the Dragonborn - though being gifted the blood of dov by Akatosh - was destined to overpower their masters, unspokenly destroying those who worshiped them.

It doesn't seem to be making any sense. This Miraak character that is.

 _Kill the false Dragonborn known as Mylla_.

'False Dragonborn'. Perhaps the priests had come to believe  _Dragonborn_  was simply an entity to invoke fear amongst the worship, and those who came to claim the title were only small mortals trying to riddle fear on others.

Maybe this is why talk of Dragonborn only started popping up after the dragon war of the Merithic era. Maybe those who claimed to be that of the blood were eliminated.

But why after all of the thousands of years did a priest twitch in his tomb at the feeling of a Dragonborn existence? Why did he take control of the innocent people of Solstheim? To rebuild his temple and to rise all dried and crusty in his robes and kick start the religion again? Maybe a dragon who he had once served had awoken him? Maybe it was Alduin, searching for a simple way to rid the woman from disturbing his plans to devour the world and all its souls, his straying from the neglect of his father Akatosh.

But, outside and inside of the temple dragon skeletons were littered about. These skeletons were not buried like the rest of their kin had been, in awaits of Alduins return to resurrect them.. No these skeletons seem to have been the leftovers, like the bones thrown out after the meat had been stomached. They seemed to have fallen in the position they remained, besides the ones strung up inside the temple that is. This makes very little sense, as a Dragonborn themselves are the only ones who could induce a permanent death to the dovah... The way they decorated the ceilings and walls was not the way a priest would mourn the defeat of a dragon..

Unless-

 _"I do not know what it is Miraak learned that gave him reason to turn on his masters. But his path seems to have been a cruel one. I wonder if we will find some answers to what happened so long ago." Frea had spoken earlier in their descent into the deep_ _temple_ _._

Miraak was a priest who turned on his master's, as Durnehviir had stated the night before. She'd been thinking about this all in the wrong sense.. but that still didn't make much sense. Why would a priest who turned against his master's try and kill the one person who could help them in doing so? Then came that unless..

"There are dark magics at work here. Ready yourself." Frea interrupted Myllas thoughts as they crept down a tunnel. The tunnel led to a room glowing golden in the fire light, and in the center.

"This book... It seems wrong, somehow. Here, yet... not. It may be what we seek."

Mylla examined the black book Frea spoke of. It emitted an eerily dark vibe. Its pages seemed old, stuck back into the book as they had fallen out. Taking it into her hands she felt the magics seeping into her skin. It seemed to have a sort of heartbeat. Flipping the heavy book open she read the first page.

The eyes, once bleached by falling stars of utmost revelation, will forever see the faint insight drawn by the overwhelming question, as only the True Enquiry shapes the edge of thought. The rest is vulgar fiction, attempts to impose order on the consensus mantlings of an uncaring godhead. First,

She went to turn the page but paused focusing her eyes on the letters that seemed to be shaking against the page. Lifting from the page.

"What th-" she was cut off as the words she'd come suspicious of shot off the page and pulled her in.

 

\---

 

Here in his shrine  
That they have forgotten  
Here do we toil  
That we might remember  
By night we reclaim  
What by day was stolen  
Far from ourselves  
He grows ever near to us  
Our eyes once were blinded  
Now through him do we see  
Our hands once were idle  
Now through them does he speak  
And when the world shall listen  
And when the world shall see  
And when the world remembers  
That world shall cease to be

 

\---

 

Rubbing her eyes the Dragonborn felt her consciousness revive. She sat against something hard, a wall probably. The temple air she had adjusted to was no more, instead, it was replaced by a dry air, what dug ferociously at her lungs with every breath. Opening her grey eyes Mylla found herself looking at the back of a man.

Giving her temples a harsh finger she forced her body to stand, she wobbled atop her legs at first, the gravity seemed different here, but quickly adjusted to a strong stance.

The man remained unaware of her presence, speaking to four green things - indescribably ugly - and a unique looking blue dragon.

The dovah noticed her first, tilting its head a bit to pierce her with its amber eyed gaze. It did not give off a hostile demeanor, simply curious.

"The time comes soon when... Sahrotaar, what are you looking at?" The man spoke, his voice a woman's worst...ahhem, following the dovahs gaze till his own fell atop the Imperial.

They all stood for a moment, staring at each other.

Myllas glanced down at the robed man's hand as a shock spell danced around in purple glory, charging. Stepping back with one foot Mylla raised her hands.

"No threat, just confused." She surrendered.

"Who are you to dare set foot here?" He paused a moment, "Ahh... You are Dragonborn. I can feel it. And yet..." The man spoke walking near her.

Mylla let off a weary smile, backing against the wall she had sat against.

"I am dragonborn.. who are you?"

The masked man stopped a few feet in front of her, towering over her small height.

"You have defeated dragons, yes, but still..."

"That did not answer my question."

"You have no idea of the true power a Dragonborn can wield!"

The man then let out a shout -  ..is he?

'Mul - Qua - Diiv'

'Strength - Armour - Wyrm'

Mylla recognized the first word of the shout as the one she had just acquired.

The man then became covered in swirling armor of colored light, he wore the same gauntlets as she had.

"This realm is beyond you. You have no power here. And it is only a matter of time before Solstheim is also mine. I already control the minds of its people. Soon they will finish building my temple, and I can return home." 

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Mylla shook her hands and squinted her eyes in confusion, "Who the fuck are you?"

"Well, assuming you read the Black Book in my temple.."

" _You're_  Miraak? Gee- I was prepared to meet some crusty old man.. not to say you aren't old and crusty under those robes and mask. Though you don't sound winded and strained like your lungs are dryer than a slug under salt." The Dragonborn hummed.

"So mind telling me why you sent those cultists after my" she circled a finger over the organ "heart?"

Miraak was silent for a moment, seemingly pondering how to respond.

"Cultist? After your heart?" He sounded confused.

"Uh. Yea.."

"I never-"

"Oh don't you give me that bullshit, Miraak, I have the letter right" she struggled through her satchel and pulled out the letter, then pushed it into his hands "here. Now you explain to me why they disrupted my journey and got me distracted! ... I tend to easily get distracted but I was doing  _so_  well until they showed up!"

"Well you see" he flipped the letter over, then back after reading it "I had no clue this letter even existed, nor that you existed.. until now at least."

Mylla crossed her arms with a 'humph'

"It must have been Mora.. but why would he..." Miraak drawled off in his words, seemingly ending and or answering the question in his head looking up at the green sky.

"I see..." he turned his vision back to the woman, offering her a hand

She looked at his hand with a raised brow, shrugging she took it and offered an introduction. "My name is Mylla.."

Miraaks hand tightened around her small one, painfully tight, causing the Dragonborn to grit her teeth and let out a hiss in pain "He's given us two choices. You become his new champion. Or, I kill you" he pulled her close, "and leave this horrid place with your soul."

Mylla felt electricity pulse through her body, then nothing.

 

\---

 

"What happened to you? You read the book and then... It seemed as though you were not really here. I could see you, but also see through you!" 

Mylla shook her head and hit her ear with her wrist trying to get the electricity feeling out of her body. "I spoke with Miraak."

The fucker is Dragonborn! But... How? How are there two Dragonborn existing at the same time.. he did mention a Mora..?

Hermaeus Mora?

The Daedric Prince of knowledge and fate - had she been in Apocrypha? 

"Where? Where is he? Can we reach him? Can we kill him" Frea questioned with slight excitement glazing her voice.

"I believe this book took me to Hermaeus Moras realm of Oblivion, Apocrypha.. it seems there Miraak is residing."

Frea looked down at the black book rested in Myllas hands, "This is a dangerous thing, then. We should return to my village, and show this to my father. Perhaps Storn can make sense of what is going on." 

"Sure... How about that.." Mylla sighed making sure the damned book was closed firmly then shoving it into her satchel.

"Come, there looks to be an exit this way."


	2. A Way With Words

Mylla grasp her hair tightly in fists, yanking at the roots as she paced the floors of Tel Mithryn. The woman's mind kept repeating the events that had occurred just hours before.

Storn opening the black book, his eyes danced atop the words just long enough to allow Mora a path to Nirn. The Daedric Prince had pierced the man and devoured the knowledge he so sought laughing as the man died under his grasp. Truly a Daedra dealt death.

Storn had sacrificed himself for his people... perhaps for all of Nirn.. Or had he?

Mylla wasn't all convinced that Miraaks plans were all nefarious. From what she had gathered Miraak was once a respected priest. Though, he felt the same as Mylla within.. The blood and soul of the dovah tearing through conscious thoughts and actions. It's taunting power was hard to control once you were conscious of its inhabitants.

Of course, that power for Mylla had been easily maintained...

But she assumed Miraak found his powers by, say chance. He was the first Dragonborn and had no other to look back to.. to understand the meaning.. he simply did as the blood and soul told - as Akatosh told. To rebel against your master's, defeat the no longer needed world eater Alduin.. to save the lives of Nirn...

Of course, the path that Miraak took was not that of Akatosh's guidance. Miraak had instead used his gift to attempt world conquest, and along that attempt been seduced into the Daedric twines of Hermaeus Mora.

According to the Skaal, the only source who seemed to speak of Miraak with a sort of certainty, Miraak had been confronted by a dragon priest named Vahlok - what simply translates to 'Guardian'. The two had fought a lengthy battle that supposedly tore Solstheim from Skyrim, pushing it into the Sea of Ghosts. When Vahlok went to cast the killing blow on Miraak apparently Hermaeus Mora had intervened and rescued his Champion from a pitiful death. Though no one was for certain that is actually what happened, the appearance of Miraak in Apocrypha seemed to confirm most of it.

Miraak must have tended his wounds alone in the stale green favoring realm of Oblivion, expecting Mora to cast him back off to finish what he had started.. but as the time crept past..

The man must have - no must feel trapped in a cage he never intended to fall into, like a salmon in a fishing net. In his mind there is no escape plausible unless it involves violence.. course these are all just speculations...

Perhaps the man's motives were once again that of no good. He had found a way to control Solstheims people and forced them to serve him, and mentioned ruling Solstheim. If she remembered correctly as her last encounter with the male Dragonborn had been nearing two weeks past.

In those two weeks the Imperial had traveled all across the island - cleansings stones, activating dwemer water pumps to unlock a second black book where she spoke to Hermaeus Mora and found his interest to trade knowledge.

The woman tasted the newly completed shout on her tongue. An undoubtedly evil shout used to bend the wills of those unwilling, friend or foe, to do to your every command. The shout had the power to bend the will that even of a dovah.

Gol - Hah - Dov

Earth - Mind - Dragon

The shout Miraak must have used against his master's. Compelling them to commit atrocities against the loyal and innocent...

"Would you stop pacing around like an idiot and just speak what's on your mind?!"

She snapped out of her trance and looked over at Neloth who was sitting in his usual wooden chair, a book sat on top his lap.

"Really, would you actually listen?" The Dragonborn squeaked tip toeing a skip to the glaring dunmer.

"No, actually I don't care to listen. Try Talvas, I'm sure he would love to give you a listen." He muttered picking up the book and turning his attention to it.

Mylla let her shoulders slack, of course the self-centered Neloth wouldn't care. As much as she appreciated him letting her stay in his tower, the man could get a bit arrogant to those who surrounded him.

She moved her gaze around the tower, finding Talvas leaned against the railing peering down the stalk of the mushroom. His eyes were dull, covered over by his undoubted boredom. The young dunmer seemed to enjoy his apprenticeships in Tel Mithryn, though with his master often consumed in his own works with no need for Talvas, the man often just.. well did as he was doing now. Occasionally setting off to experiment his own learnings, or just to practice his already known spells. When Neloth actually did need him, it was for mere tasks such as 'Go fetch me some heart stone' or 'go find me this staff'.

But, Talvas looked busy. Hadn't want to bombard him with Dragonborn problems do we now?

Mylla sighed loosely hugging her arms over her robe covered waist.

Back to my thoughts.

When Mylla met Miraak he seemed to have a realization. Seemingly Hermaeus Mora had sent that letter out to the cultists to gain the last Dragonborn attention, to lure her in. What the Daedric Prince had done quite well.

This led him to believe Mora was out to replace him. To have the woman defeat his escape driven puppet and to take over his place in championship, a position he must loathe. This move must have seemed double ended to Miraak. The dragonborns meeting and killing another.. Hermaeus Mora must have had a reason. Perhaps he was bored of Miraak? Perhaps the souls of two Dragonborn are powerful enough for Miraak to break the chains of Oblivion. The soul of Mylla would be a reward from Mora if Miraak could succeed. His champion would likely be the overshadowing of all other daedric champions, if he hadn't already. Miraak would be extremely powerful. World conquest perhaps wouldn't be a far off of a possibility.

But was there only two choices? Or were there many choices he had overlooked, luckily Mylla had not overlooked them.

The first choice, or rather... not a choice.. was Hermaeus Mora was intending to acquire two Dragonborn champions. Who knows the reasons behind that one.. Maybe Mora wished to redecorate Apocrypha? No, he's a Daedric Prince he could do that with a fingers snap.

The second, Hermaeus Mora had intent to let them both go. Pact free probably not, but just maybe..

So that brings it to four potential possibilities..

Mylla shook her head, clearly over thinking this all. She will have to find the outcome when the time came.

When was the time?

Mylla look down at the apprentice robes she wore - generosity of Neloth after her ebony armor became ruined after their delve in the Dwemer city ruins of Nchardak.

A Dwarven Centurion had promptly slammed the Dragonborn into a wall, how she had not died on impact was beyond her. She would have greatly accepted death at that moment. The feeling of your skull cracking against hard stone was not a feeling she would want to suffer ever again. Neloth luckily had been there to rescue her from a bloody head split death, casting healing spells over her wound along with many calm spells to keep her from screaming or passing out. She had to admit, the Talvanni Wizard held an impressive pool of Magicka, the wound she had sustained had not been something a novice could have healed in such little time.

Her ebony armor had sustained significant damage from the impact as well as picking up a stench from swimming around in the dirty water.

How she would even think to face Miraak in such lowly armored attire.. but what's the worst that could happen?

The Dragonborn smiled walking over to her bed sat against the porous mushroom walls. She pulled out the Black Book: Walking Dreams, running her palm over the cover she let out a sigh settling onto the bed. The last time she had entered the book she was met by a dead end. A platform holding a word wall. This word wall was much different though, it was animated- alive- like that of the black books. With dovahzul written in deep black ink on the yellowing book paper. It was quite aesthetically in line with the realm of Apocrypha, what was a library of the known and unknown pieces of knowledge, forbidden knowledge, a worn page ripped from a book.

The wall held the word, Diiv, what completed the shout Dragon Aspect. The second word, Qah had been found in the ebony mine in Raven Rock, the two walls read,

Here once stood Miraak who wore

His faith as armor shielded by

Daedra for his unending loyalty.

stone commemorates great Miraak:

Dragon Priest of great wisdom, servant

of the wyrm, and enemy of mankind.

The completed shout was extremely powerful, the armor it born hardened the armor Mylla had worn greatly. One could not even scratch it when trying, no matter how much effort was put forth to inflict the wound.

But even with the completed shout aboad her tongue the mortal of dov failed to find a path to take any further into the realm. Stuck, she had reread the black book and returned to the soils of Nirn, appreciating Magnus who warmed her skin from Apocryphas chilled airs.

The dragonborns mind lingered to Skyrim. How she missed her home. She missed the sprawling fields of snow or grass. Oh, how she missed grass. The green fresh smelling plant that covered the dirt of southern Skyrim where small animals held their own communities. The wind blowing atop the grass, making it tumble like a wave.. The fresh air not tainted by the Red Mountains pungent ash and the birds that flew through it, chirping happily as they ate the bugs who dared fly as high as them. The mountains peaking atop the livings heads while storms raged atop their own. The occasional roar of a dovah enjoying the feeling of flight that they had been revoked so many years ago when their kind was slaughtered.

Mylla placed the book on her lap and looked at her hands. The blisters she acquired while visiting Paarthurnax had healed, only small scrapes on her knuckles wound her light-skinned hands at this moment. Magicka pooled around her palms, glowing a dim golden, lingering with the blessing that Akatosh bestowed within.

Letting out a long stream of air from her nose she tightened her hands into a fist. Placing the black book back into the sack she had retrieved it from.

I'll head to Raven Rock, see if Glover has repaired my armor.. then I guess I'll give this here book a read.

The Dragonborn sighed, standing from the bed and giving Tel Mithryn a look around. Walking towards the dock she stepped into the magical levitator. The blue magic swirled around her body and held her as it lowered her down the stalk. She waved a goodbye to Talvas then exited the mushroom into Solstheims dull airs.

As she walked from Tel Mithryn she listened to the silt strider, Dusty, sing into the air. One of the last of her kind. She sang out.. or rather called out for her kin to be met only by the echoes of her own song. Sad really, the magnificent creature's demise due to the Red Mountian. Before the Red Year, the dunmer had been pretty reliant on the creatures for transportation according to Revus, who is the man who sits next to Dusty.

Revus had kindly offered to keep Fawn when Mylla went into Tel Mithryn. He tended for the horse as he does for his elder friend.

Hopping atop Fawn and giving Revus thanks the Dragonborn kicked the mare's sides and made haste to Raven Rock

 

  * > \-------




Tightening the last strap on the ebony armor, the Dragonborn stood, placing her hand on her hip and letting out a whistle.

"You work fast Glover, these are as good as new." She smiled, handing the Breton a sack of coin.

"Well, thank you." The man smiled, wiping his hand on the apron he wore and accepting the coin.

Mylla gave him a wave, walking from his forge and into the lively streets of Raven Rock. Cleansing the stones from Miraaks influence certainly had impacted Raven Rock, as well as deepening the mine, and ridding it of a dragonpriest. The Dragonborn smiled, the thought that she alone had opened a new glistening chapter for the settlement warmed her heart, who seemed to dull as the day's abode this island drag onwards.

Walking past the docks she gazed upon the Northern Maiden. How she could not wait to board the boat back to Windhelm, to sit next to a warm fire snuggled into a wool blanket and tell her stories to Galmar as he drank mead and pretended to listen.

She shook her head, walking out of Raven Rock and mounting Fawn. She'd find a nice place to read the book and deal with Miraak. Then she would leave, if she were to survive that is.

Riding Fawn to a nice spot on the shore, with Morrowind and Skyrim in faded view she slid off of the horse and lay out a blanket on the ashy ground. Sitting she took a deep breath and pulled out the book.

 

\-------

Mylla awoke gracefully on her feet, her vision greeted the green atmosphere with reluctance. She'd come to distaste the transition of Nirn to Oblivion. The pull of gravity was much weaker in Apocrypha, it made her blood feel strange as she adjusted to it. Taking a gaze around she found she was stood in the same place as before like a feather sat between two pages. The platform surrounded by green liquid with a Word Wall towards the end of it. Her ears twitched at the sound of a dragon's roar. Moving her gaze up she saw in the distance three dragons circling a tower. Their roars echo through Apocrypha. Filled with sorrow they were. The amount of times they had unwillingly circled that tower in their imprisionment.

The Dragonborn tore her gaze from the dragons and settled it on the Word Wall, it still told the same story as before. Though it still beckoned her closer. With every step its heartbeat seemed to deepen until she stood a foot length from the wall. Raising a hand she lay the tips of her fingers atop the page, only to jolt back when a bolt of electricity zapped her.

Letting out a curse she flicked her hand around trying to rid the electricity. Giving the tips of her fingers a good rub she turn away from the wall. Suddenly wind smacked over the woman from above causing her to stumble and cough as dust flew through the air. Waving her hands to rid the dust from her face the Dragonborn stumbled back into the Word Wall. As the dust cleared she saw something stood a front her. Deep breathing rumbled through the air.

A dragon.

The dust settled enough for her to identify the dragon, Sahrotaar, the dragon who Miraak had been speaking to when they first met. The dovah was very large, of a magnificent grey-blue, a raging underbite, and amber eyes who pierced the woman's figure with their gaze. The dovah supported no horns, only spinal spikes trailed down the beasts back to embellish its scales. Sleek is the word to describe him. No doubt the breed of dragon was built for speed.

"Sahrotaar." She breathed out.

'Phantom Word Servant' his name read, phantom an excellent word to describe the dovah.

A growl sound from the back of the dragon's throat, indicating he was no friend at the moment.

Myllas eyes widened as the dragon raised his head and began forming a shout on his tongue. Pushing off the Word Wall the Dragonborn lept from the thu'um, barely dodging the Ice Form storm that smashed into the wall.

Stumbling to stay on her feet Mylla fell to her palms, scraping them into the stone floor, then pushing herself around to sit atop her bottom. The dragon whipped its head towards her, towering above in an all hostile might he began speaking again.

Bend Will 

Gol - Hah - Dov

Earth - Mind - Dragon 

As Sahrotaar spoke his words of power the Dragonborn bore her own wicked words. The thu'ums clashed harshly, though Myllas proved much stronger, pushing the dragon's destruction back into its mouth and itself slammed into Sahrotaar. 

The dragon whipped its head back letting out a roar of distress from the frosted shout plunging into his throat, he then stepped back and went silent. 

Mylla placed her hand over her heart, though she couldn't feel its rapid beat through the ebony armor. She watched the dragon slowly lower its head down - eyes closed breathing deeply as the shout tore through his mind. It sat a moment in this state till its eyes shot open, pupils rapidly dilating to focus on Mylla.

"Hail thuri," he began, lowering his head to rest on the ground, "Your thu'um has the mastery. Climb aboard and I will carry you to Miraak."  

Mylla eyed the dragon with suspicion for a moment, but nonetheless stood and walked to the dovah. At the back of Sahrotaars head the spikes look to have been ripped out to form a comfortable seat for presumably Miraak to sit. Mylla hoisted herself onto the dragon's neck and clung tightly to the spikes in front of her as the dragon raised himself into the Apocrypha skies.

"Your thu'um is stronger than Miraak's. Vobalaan in. I serve you now. But beware. Miraak is strong. He knew you would come here." Sahrotaar spoke to her as they neared the tower with circling dragons.

"Miraak has forced me to serve him for too long. Nahkriin saraan lingrah. Let us destroy him together."

Mylla smiled at the dragon, unsure if he would actually mean that when the shout slipped away from his mind, but she appreciated the thought that if things did turn unfortunate she would have the dragon fighting alongside her. 

Sahrotaar slowed in flight, descending to the tower now below them.

"Sahrotaar, are you so easily swayed?" Miraaks voice sounded.

Mylla glanced down to see him standing before them, two dragons sat behind him, their gazes burning into her.

The dragon she sat on lowered his head to the ground, allowing the short imperial to slide off of him. She landed with a thud to the ground, letting out a gasp when she felt her left foot twist as it hit the ground. 

"Gah, fuck!" She swore stumbling to the ground and pulling her foot towards her. It throbbed beneath her boot. Pulling off her boot she inspected the ankle, what was swelling rapidly, raging red. Sprained.

"Oh, of course this has to happen here of all places." She muttered under her breath, flipping her hair away from her face to look over at Miraak. He stood, simply watching the woman rub her ankle.

One of the dragons growled, his voice itching to be heard, Miraak waved the dragon off, "No. Not yet. We should greet our guest first." He spoke taking mosey steps towards her, grasping a staff tightly in a fist.

"And so the First Dragonborn meets the Last Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. No doubt just as Hermaeus Mora intended." He paused for a moment.

"He is a fickle master, you know. But now I will be free of him. My time in Apocrypha is over. You are here in your full power," he gestured towards her ankle, "and thus subject to my full power."

Mylla glared at his poor joke towards her ankle, rubbing in a weak restoration spell into it. 

"You will die. And with the power of your soul, I will return to Solstheim and be master of my own fate again."

With those finishing words the dovah who sat behind him took off into the sky, the wind from their wings whipped her hair around, the ends stinging her skin. 

Letting out a curse she shoved her foot back into the boot, it now fit very snugly near the ankle, and pushed herself back onto her feet. She stood strong looking at Miraak who twirled a green dagger with his fingers. 

"Are you ready, Dragonborn?" He questioned with taunt.

"Fuck off." She growled in response, shooting another healing spell down her leg to numb the pain. "Now, since you had your words of introduction, let me have my own."

"I am Mylla, last Dragonborn, or so they seem to say. I had initially come to you to find out who you were, to most likely kill you, as most on Veysenor wish I do. And I will if I must." She shifted her body weight from her pained ankle. "But I now realize that you could be essential to my success, frey. Perhaps there is a way for us both to leave here alive?" She pondered.

Miraak let out a laugh, "There is no way-"

"Nahlot!" Mylla interrupted lifting a finger into the air, "Hi koraav, men seem to always jump to the violent conclusion yes, your brain had not the ability to think of a peaceful way with your desperateness who plagued it. I forgive." 

Though she could not see the man's face - as it was obstructed by the golden priest mask he wore - she knew he was thinking over her words. His stance was stiff, the dagger and staff clutched tightly in his fists. The robes he wore were dulled, frayed at the ends of the limbs, though she could not see any skin peeking through.

Miraak was a Nord, and it was quite apparent by his height, very tall he was, a bit shorter than Ulfric maybe.. but still.

"Now," she spoke, kicking at her ankle when it sent out a shot of pain "I'd like to speak with Hermaeus Mora, I know you watch with a ferviit eye."

At Myllas words the tower shook, startling the dragon beside her who she stumbled into. She had not the chance to spy what Miraak had done for her vision was soon filled by the black smoky abyss of eyes and tentacles Hermaeus Mora so chose to make form of towards mortals.

"I answer your summons, Dragonborn. Do make haste with your words." The storytelling voice echoed out, filling her ears with only it.

Mylla look towards Sahrotaar who she clung to, his eyes were closed and his head down with refusal to greet the Prince. He must loathe the Daedric Prince for his unwilling imprisonment with Miraak. For the thousands of years he has flown the dull airs, circling the infinite realm as far as he dared go.

Mylla moved her gaze to Miraak who now looked up at the Prince she had summoned.

"I didn't expect this to work, gees." She let out a low whistle. The Daedra Princes are much more responsive than the Aedra have ever been with her, their willingness to make the sight to mortal souls like gnat to rotting fruits.

"Well you see, Mora, I was wondering if I could take Miraak here," she gestured towards the man, "and scurry on out of your lovely realm."

Mora was silent for a moment.

She spotted Miraak crossing his arms in an I-told-you-so manner, seemingly taking the Daedras silence as hostility, anger from such vacuous questions. Perhaps he would pluck her arms from their sockets, toss the feeble limbs aside and watch the woman bleed to death. Stick a toxic tentacle into her eye sockets, pop out her eyes and smush them into a jiggly jelly and deliver it as dessert. No, too mad godlike.

"I took you as the clever Dragonborn of the two." The Daedra finally spoke, erupting into a blackening darkness. When the smoke fell from the air the Dragonborn found herself sitting in a chair, no longer propped against the sulking dragon. She glanced about, discovering she now inhabited a dark bricked room, a study. Tall shelves with books crammed tightly together, spewing out, wanting to explode from the pressures. The floor littered by loose yellowing papers settled amongst another in a peacefully messy manner.

Besides her sat Miraak, slumped into the chair in utter boredom, as if the Prince had pulled such stunts multitudinous times before. A front her was a desk, grandly build, a shiny brown wood built with exquisite detailing along its broad legs. It seemed from another world, far nicer than that of any desk she had laid eyes, most being of a poor pine lumbered down with little thought, poorly treated and mended into a rough ring grooved surface. One would get splinters simply touching the déclassé make. But this desk looked it as smooth as a sleek feline trotting across a basement in search of an easy squeaking dinner. 

Mylla slid her eyes from the mind mystifyingly built desk where they settled on a man, his legs slacked lazily on top of the desk. Feet clad in shiny black shoes, oils and greases rubbed deep into the leather till it shown upon each dare of light. The man, cut sharply as daedra often are, deep grey skin and black hair pulled back tied into a knot as if he had been reading whilst the hair had kept creeping into his vision till he had finally had enough and forced it back. He held brilliant green eyes who pierced her figure with no recognizable emotion. 

In his hand held a sweetroll, frosting drooping onto his skin as he look at the Dragonborn, ignoring the warmly creamed sweet.

"You see, Dragonborn." He finally spoke, sliding his legs from the desk and sitting up straight in the black fur covered chair. He sat the sweetroll on a plate, then wiped his hand along his tongue ridding it of the sweetened cream.

"I've been sae, watching you. As with most of the other princes. Your future holds something much appeasing to those.." The Prince leaned forward crossing his arms atop the desk, twirling his thumbs together as a smile crept up his lips, green eyes glistening in the torch lighting.

Mylla leaned back in the polished chair, casting her gaze in avoidance. Trailing it on the many embellished book spines. Stories, tomes, future events, one could name it and it seemed the prince could place it.

"I wish to claim this event." He continued, blackening the shelves who distracted the Dragonborn, forcing her eyes on him.

"Am I allowed mindah.. knowledge for what I will be giving you?" She questioned, sinking her grey eyes into Moras deep green stare.

"I cannot inform you what this event may be, nor how soon it will happen. An agreement amongst the Daedra." Mora smiled, his white teeth shown sharply.

Mylla narrowed her eyes, leaning back in the chair, running a finger along the arms smooth finish, a foreign feeling... A future event.. a child, a victory, perhaps demise. One could only guess what the Prince of knowledge and fate craved grasp of. But the matter of unknowing put off the agreement in her head. Her future for..

She glanced at Miraak, he sat now upright, his masked face turned towards her, his hands grasping the arms of the chair tightly, had his hands not been gloved the knuckles would be a snow white for sure. Though his face was covered she could feel his emotions radiating off of him as does heat from a fire, their souls lashing together hitting harshly with thu'ums. How did he work into this deal?

She shook her head, brushing back her hair when it fell to her cheeks, hooking it behind her ear. The world wavers at this pair, the two directly blessed, hand picked by Akatosh. Two powerful mortals of the dov. Their thu'ums were strong, quick.. formidable. Together they could surely break Alduin to his pointed knees, banish him from existence.. or at least as banished as they could make him.

Returning her sight to Mora she let out a breath, "Fine."

"Perfect." Mora clapped, shifting his gaze to Miraak, "You are lucky this Dragonborn bares a brain with the capacity to think logically."

Miraak scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. 

Hermaeus Mora stood from his chair, his shoes clicks echoing through the study as he rounded the desk. "Simply settled. Very well," he held up a hand, in it glowed a bright green spell "I shall make myself known when the currents of fate beckon."

With those words, the room lit bright, blindingly. A loud explosion was then heard. Till only a dull ringing resonated through an ear.

  


  


\-------

  


Floating 

Water swept into his lungs, bashing harshly against the walls. Threatening to implode the delicate organs of flesh. Bubbles escaped from him as he opened his mouth, screaming towards the surface as it faded from view. High above. Thrashing to grab at the break between water and air as the current sucked him deeper to the depths of the bitter salt mixed sea. When the surface no longer shown, surround by only darkness he stilled. His heart beat slowly seemed to drift into the distance, only a soft mutter in his ear. The man's eyes grew sore from the harsh salts, though he refused to shut them, to succumb to the darkness, to release his soul to the watery abyss. 

Though when the beat of his heart neared non-existent a dim golden light shown in the darkness, a hand reaching. The sight of the reach brought a jolt of electricity to his heart, it beat strongly, his body seemed to move on its own, pushing through towards the hand. When he reached it, his hand grabbed tightly to it. Small, the hand was small in his grasp, though it pulled with the might of a dovah. With one yank he found himself heaving in a breath of air, lay on the ground while a woman sat over him, running her fingers under his jaw and pushing against an artery. Her grey gaze bore intently into his own. She watched as he struggled to calm his breathing, he felt his blood pumping violently.

He felt obnoxiously heavy, like his ribs would collapse against his heart, who beat so harshly trying to evade them.

"You seem to of went into shock." She spoke retracting her fingers from him, shifting from her knees to sit on her bottom. "Your heart stopped a couple of times, I think it has not had to pump so hard since you entered Apocrypha. The gravity is much stronger here yes, would you agree?"

Miraak lifted his hand and placed it over his chest, feeling his heart beat at a new pace. It felt loud, annoying. Dropping the hand to his side he look up, the sky no longer held the tone of green he had come so accustomed to, instead it shown a brilliant blue. White clouds littered the sky, the fluffy patches of water lazily shifted across the blue hue unknowing where they headed.

Mylla let out a sigh, "If it makes you feel the bit better, you'd not be the only one layout like a split rabbit to a mountain lion." She gestured over her shoulder.

Raising his head brought zaps of pain to shoot up his head, though before he had to put it down due to the pain he glanced a mound of dragons heaving in their own pain.

Mora had released them all, those he took hostage thousands of years ago. A smile crept up his face, though it disappeared when he realized his mask no longer shielded his face from the woman. Sitting up abruptly he shot his gaze around, looking for the golden mask.

The ground he had lay upon seemed to be sand and ash, a sea lapped at the shore behind him, gurgling and sizzling foams while clams pulled themselves along. In the distance in front was a thinning forest, the trees covered in a purplish ash. If this was Solstheim, it was not as he had expected it.

Miraak had heard of the Red Year, through the amount of books that had pooled into Apocrypha shortly after the disasters. Had heard of its devastating effects, though reading such had no comparison to seeing the damage. 

Before he could drag his gaze away from the trees a dizziness overcame him. He wavered, pushing a palm to his temple when black spots painted his vision. Mylla lurched forward, wrapping her arms behind his back to hold him steady. "Take it easy." She spoke, her voice loud in his ear.

"You haven't eaten in thousands of years, nor drank have you? Fool, you hadn't the strength to force such bold movements just yet." She leaned over him to retrieve something, which turned out to be a water skin as she pressed it to his lips.

The liquid slid down his throat, cold and comforting pooling into his stomach. His body greatly accepted the drink, demanding much more till the thirst had quenched and he felt he would drown downing another sip.

"Thirsty, geh." Mylla hummed tossing the drained water skin back to the pile of miscellaneous junks she came to acquire. "Unfortunately, I did not bring any food along as it fouls quickly from the ash. If you haven't noticed there seems to be an abundance of said toxic dust." She gestured around them.

"Oh! Also, if you are in wonder where your mask lay, it is over by the dragons. Couple of rieklings have been eyeing it since we returned. I trust they will keep the precious relic safe, even in their collapsing state. Formidable creatures they are." She smiled, patting his back when he felt the strength to lift his head. "Raven Rocks a couple minutes ride from here, just round the coast. If you are feeling well enough to crawl onto my horse I can purchase you food at the bar. Fine dunmer cuisines yes." She let out a snicker, though Miraak failed to understand the humor she had found.

Mylla slid from his side, walking towards a sleek steed tied to a log, it looked starved, ribs beginning to protrude from its hunger. Horse of brilliant deep bay, a blueish undertone. It wore a crescent moon on its forehead, what drooped down its snout in a trailing blaze. The white marking stood out against the bay. Though riddled with hunger the steed still held muscle, riding along its bones. Far too strong -stiff- for a decent meal, for sure. 

Miraaks stomach roared out, demanding food of any sort. Ravenous, he glanced back to watch the clams. How he would crawl over to them, rip their shells apart to tear the salty meat and fill his stomach with. Though, he didn't. Composure. A woman watched his movements, surely that act of famished hunger would look pathetic. He would act nonchalantly.. strong.

Pathetic.

He ran a hand down his face, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. He had only been awake a few moments, but still desired to climb into a fur-covered bed and close his eyes. Rest a moment more.

Mylla beckoned him up, pulling the mare behind her as she approached. His mask dangling by her fingers. The fact that she could see his face did bother him to an extent, he had not shaved properly since he had first met her that day in Apocrypha. His usually neatly tended facial hair had grown an uncomfortable length in that time. Luckily, the black hair on his scalp had not grown as quickly as the facial hair. It still sat atop his head neatly trimmed, full of sand yes, but still.

"Let us go." She smiled holding out a hand for him to take, which he did. His hand dominated over her own. Pulling him onto wobbly feet she lent him against the horse as she gathered her pile of acquisitions, tying the cloth around the hoard of junk.

When finished the woman slung the sack over her shoulder, tipping back a bit from the weight. Returning to him she handed over his mask, which he took with a delayed hand. The muscles in his body screamed in reluctance. Aching as his body requested the measly amounts of energy, just to lift an arm and take the mask with his fingers.

Over dramatic. He thought, shaking the sand from his hair and slipping the headpiece on.

Mylla watched him, swinging her arms behind her back and rocking on her heels. A smile imprinted itself to her face, her teeth shown the slightest past her reddened lips.

"Your struggles are much amusing. You were planning to return to Mundus lonesome of a gracious woman bearing such means towards your needs.. neilaasend."

Miraak scoffed, setting a glare on the woman. "I wouldn't have been so weak if I had slain you." He grumbled, voice muffled by the mask. "Your soul would have granted divine strength, you see."

"Hmm. Yes." She hummed, patting the top of the horses back "Up up you go, young kiin."

  


  


  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm.. finally I finished rewriting the second chapter and can hopefullu hop off this awkward log of writers block I seem sat atop.

**Author's Note:**

> I rewrote the first chapter feeling it was too bland compared to the second... now I feel I need to rewrite the second. Something tells me this will be a never ending loop. Mylla wasn't even the Dragonborn's original name...


End file.
